Sherrilyn Kenyon Quotes

In real life, a relationship takes a long time. Either somebody is involved with somebody else, and that's ending, or somebody's hung up on an ex, or your job isn't going right, and so you're focused more on that than relationships. It just takes a lot for two people to get together.

I looked at her. Sheila was my girl--the girl I wanted--and wanted for keeps. But it wasn't any use having illusions about her. Sheila was a liar and probably always would be a liar. It was her way of fighting for survival--the quick easy glib denial. It was a child's weapon--and she'd probably never got out of using it. If I wanted Sheila, I must accept her as she was--be at hand to prop up the weak places. We've all got our weak places. Mine were different from Sheila's, but they were there.

Difficulties arise whenever a committed relationship is succeeding. Love makes you vulnerable. . . . Your defenses relax and the dark side of your personality arises. . .

In January 1912 Leonard proposed marriage. She was unable to answer directly and he pressed further in a passionate letter: 'It isn't, really it isnt, merely because you are so beautiful - though of course that is a large reason & so it should be - that I love you: it is your mind & your character - I have never known anyone like you in that - wont you believe me?

Ninety percent of true love is acute, ear-burning embarrassment.

I think grief is a step towards strength because it allows you to be porous and take everything in, and have it transform you. What will sit within you is despairing, but at least it's feeling. You're not numb. Grief is sort of the allowance of feeling.

It is the peculiarity of grief to bring out the childish side of man.

Of course you can fall in love. You just have to let yourself. They don't call it falling for nothing. -Kate

I got hit in the face with a gun. I'm not very fragile at all. It makes me think maybe things would be easier if I were terribly frail and fragile somehow.

And he made love to her, offering his body in both tenderness and anger, unsure which was the best way to pass her bits of his soul so that she could patch her own with it

I was angry at my parents when I had to have brain surgery, that they weren't still around, because no matter how old you are you want you parents when you're going through something like that.

Day just smiles at me, an expression so sad that it breaks through my numbness, and I begin to cry. Those bright blue eyes. Before me is the boy who has bandaged my wounds on the streets of Lake, who has guarded his family with every bone in his body, who has stayed by my side in spite of everything, the boy of light and laughter and life, of grief and fury and passion, the boy whose fate is intertwined with mine, forever and always. "I love you," he whispers. "Can you stay awhile?

She laughs and looks out the window and I think for a minute that she's going to start to cry. I'm standing by the door and I look over at the Elvis Costello poster, at his eyes, watching her, watching us, and I try to get her away from it, so I tell her to come over here, sit down, and she thinks I want to hug her or something and she comes over to me and puts her arms around my back and says something like 'I think we've all lost some sort of feeling.

I think I want to be in love with you but I don't know how.

I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I love you.

Every love story is a potential grief story.

There are many stages of grief. It's sad, something coming to an end. It cracks you open, in a way -- cracks you open to feeling. When you try to avoid the pain, it creates greater pain. I'm a human being, having a human experience in front of the world. I wish it weren't in front of the world. I try really hard to rise above it.

If you hold back on the emotions--if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them--you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your heard even, you experience them fully and completely.

A man is in no danger so long as he talks his love; but to write it is to impale himself on his own pothooks.

“I'm not going anywhere.” Gently, he stroked her back, cradled her head. Was there anything more astounding or more frightening to a man, he wondered, than a strong woman in tears? “I've been right here all along. I love you, Eve, almost more than I can stand.” “I need you. I can't help it. I don't want to.” “I know. He eased back, tucking a hand under her chin to lift her face to his. “We’re going to have to deal with it.” He kissed one wet cheek, then the other. “I really can’t do without you.“

When he looked at me, his eyes positively twinkled. Christ. I was screwed. Eyes were twinkling at me.

Despite his cynical exterior, he had a good heart-and Lissa owned most of it.

You don't feel you could marry me instead? Got no brains, of course, and I ain't a handsome fellow, like Jack, but I love you. Don't think I could ever love anyone else.

It is a very vulnerable feeling to lose something very close to your heart or someone very dear to you.

I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm ready for whatever happens but I think that fame is what comes along with the territory when you open yourself up and become this story, this book for anyone to read.